What A Lovely Nightmare
by MeandPizzatheOTP
Summary: "Oh Ceasar, we all know I'm not coming home." I tell him, playing up my district 4 accent. "You see, Katniss Everdeen isn't the only one with someone to protect ... I just brought my someone with me." Cato/OC
1. Chapter 1

**What A Lovely** **Nightmare**

_"Whatever you do, just don't fall asleep."  
_

* * *

_If absolute power corrupts absolutely, does absolute powerlessness make you pure?  
- Harry Shearer_

* * *

"Okay Rhys, off to bed." I sighed contently, closing the old leather book, patting my little brother on the head as I made my way to walk out of the bedroom door.

The 12 year old scowled at me, clearly not understanding the importance of sleep." But what happened to Cinderella?" Rhys whined, his doe-eyes not entirely interested, and not at all curious - he'd heard this story time and time again - in fact, I had a suspicion that the boy 5 years my inferior was using the story as an excuse to stay up, although a I knew he'd much rather be spending his time downstairs, on our tattered couch, watching some mind numbing show about the Capitol on the TV.  
I put on a smirk for the pouting little brunette.

Chuckling slightly, I replied "Enough Cinderella for one night, Little man! It's a big day tomorrow!" Carefully dodging the toys littered around the room, I put the book back onto the book shelf, showing him I was not going to give in that easily.

Rhys did not like this one bit. "I'm not a 'little man' ... I'm a grown up!" He whined, eyes showing clear impatience, before adding thoughtfully, "And grown ups stay up all night. It's only 10:30, Eva!" Arms folded, he let out a huff, stomping a little before making his way to the wooden book shelf, his intention clearly to bring the book out again.

Now laughing, I pointed out "That's 2 and a half hours later than your normal bed time. You'll be tired in the morning. And you get cranky when you're tired. Do you want to be cranky for the celebration after the reaping?"

I silently noted that he was always tired in the morning, because what my brother didn't know was that I fathomed that he sneaked out of bed most nights when he suspected I was asleep, watching re-runs of the previous games, a smile on his face. He didn't need to worry about my parents finding out - they were away frequently, at parties and pubs and whatnot. I, however, often had seen the blare of the light coming from the living room, or heard the the insistent droning voice of Caesar Flickerman from the small TV, when I went downstairs to get a glass of water or something of the sort.

Rhys gave me an irritated look, making me feel a pang of guilt. I had always been a push over where my little brother was concerned, and I could not stand the mere thought of the boy being mad with me. To my misfortune, that lead to him becoming more and more spoilt by the day, and he seemed increasingly content with playing the guilt card over me to get what he wanted.

"Can you at least tell me the story of how Finnick O'Dair won the games before you leave?" He pleaded, his last attempt and ploy to stay up, looking like butter wouldn't melt. Oh yes, I knew he loved that story.

I sighed a dramatic sigh , pretending that it was a hard decision to make, even though we both knew that Rhys had won. "Okay then, but you need to get to bed as soon as I've finished! Comprende?"  
My little brother nodded vigorously, satisfaction gleaming in his face, plopping down onto his beanbag chair.

I'd memorised this story long ago, when I was about my brothers age; It was the story our headmaster would tell us proudly in each assembly, either not realising or simply not caring that he'd told the story thousands of times before. A story of a young boy who defied all odds, a boy that had been reaped for the games and had came back alive with a great story to tell. A story that, when drummed into kids for long enough, made them believe that the Hunger Games was exactly that - a game, and a glorious game, at that. It wouldn't be long before we'd be having volunteers from our district like in 1 and 2.  
However, right now, the eligible contestants were terrified.

Every time the headmaster told us the story of Finnick O'Dair, we would humour him with all the right noises, adding a little nod in all the right places, but our thoughts would always be the same. _This just isn't right.  
_Of course it was crazy to even dwell upon the thought that any of us could meet the same fate as Finnick O'Dair. Annie Cresta, possibly, but not the districts golden boy, Finnick O'Dair. It was more likely we'd end up like all out district tributes for the past 4 years. Dead. _Just like Tristan._

Tristan had volunteered for the games. My sweet brother and I had been trained by my father, just in case our names ever came out of that damned glass ball. However, Tristan became too self assured, too confident in his abilities, and recklessly volunteered in the place of another boy. Never made it past the bloodbath, our Tristan. Dad stopped training me at 15 years old, when Tristan had died, and I knew I could never follow in his footsteps. 7 years of training with my father didn't make me even an obstacle in the path of the true careers, District 1 and District 2. If I ever went into that arena, I'd never come out, and I knew it.

Soon I realised the story I was telling had turned more into a ramble. Rhys looked at me and rolled his eyes, probably thinking that this wasn't worth staying up for tonight. "Maybe you should save the story for tomorrow night." His face held an expression of boredom, like he wasn't interested any more. Something surged through my chest, because I knew this would be the look I'd be getting more and more often. Soon we'd be two different people - District 4 was creating an academy to train our children, and I knew Rhys would be in there like a shot. I had started to suspect he was already pestering father for an application form, much to his dismay. In a matter of years, he'd be just like Tristan, and the thought made my chest ache.

He jumped off of his chair and walked over to his bed, hinting that I should get out of his room. I sighed inaudibly.  
It was only a few months ago where I could go up to my brothers room, read him a story, and have him snuggle in my lap, eyes wide with excitement at the story unravelling - and I could pretend, in that moment, that I had a perfect family.  
I could forget that our parents were going to come back at a unpredicted hour, alcohol still practically floating at the back of their throats, and presumably, they would pass out swiftly after getting through the door, trying to forget the pain of Tristan. I could forget that my Grandmother would be crying in the next room for the sake of our broken family.  
As long as I had my moment with my brother, I would be okay.

However, small as this incident that night was, I knew this was signalling the crumbling of my relationship with my brother - Our mutual knowledge of what the games could take from us was the only thing that had kept our bond strong - without it, what did we have?

Pushing down the icy, sinking feeling in my gut, I laughed shakily and nodded to him, before heading out of his door. Looking back tentatively, I saw him slide his hands under his pillow, rummaging for an object that was revealed to be his pocket knife. Swallowing, I hollered out to him "Goodnight Rhys, Love you!" I waited for a second longer than needed, observing his fingers delicately twisting around the knife, like it was just as natural as breathing.  
My heart stung a bit as I got no response. His love of bed time stories was the only thing child-like about my little brother.  
I just didn't want him to grow up. Especially into a monster like most of the careers were.

I walked to my room, slumping on my bed in defeat. This was it. Sighing, I thought that maybe, just maybe, entering the Hunger Games and being slaughtered would be best for me. Maybe then Rhys would be reminded of just how much the games can take away from you.  
I shook my head violently. How dare I let something like that even enter my head? What a horrifying thought. The mere reminder that the reapings were tomorrow made me want to vomit.

I slipped out of my clothes quickly, shuddered at a slight chill, and slipped into my nightdress. It was a pale blue, flimsy little thing that had belonged to my great grandmother. It wasn't as fancy as some of the clothes in district 4, but it was a reminder of when the Hunger Games were fresh, and everyone wasn't so complacent with it's existence.  
Apparently it had always been to just slightly too big for her - from what I've seen from the photo's of my beautiful great grandmother, she had been around about the age of 16 more or less, at the time she wore it, and still had the body of a prepubescent; much shorter than myself, and less developed too.

I heaved myself off of my bed, about to close my open window, when I caught a sight of myself in my full length mirror. When my grandmother first saw me in her mothers Nightgown, she told me I looked nothing like her, but just as beautiful, if not more so - I begged to differ, however. No one could be as beautiful as my great grandmother, the woman that had been executed because she fought for what was right.  
My great grandmother was certainly beautiful, as was grandmother, from what I had saw from the black and white pictures.  
My mother looked as if she could have been beautiful like them, but a few years of alcohol abuse and late nights, and lord knows what else (I had seen strange bottles of pills that I recognised to be from district 6 in her drawer) had deteriorated her looks - she looked ghastly, more so each and every day. She had never accepted Tristan's death, and most likely never would.

She appeared rough on the edges, her hair was dyed bleach blonde, and was straw-like and lifeless. Her dreary brown eyes were framed by thin black lashes, clumped together with coats and coats of cheap brand mascara (a luxury, even in a district like District 4). It was apparent that her partying lifestyle had not done her well - more and more wrinkles seemed to show up on her yellow tinged, foundation-caked face daily. I loathed her for not being strong, as did my Grandmother.

As for me, My brown hair fell in loose curls around my face - brown was such a dull colour in a world where the capitol girls could dye their hair all sorts of bright and vibrant colours. However, it was shiny, had body, and I was proud to say it looked miles better than my mothers.  
I had deep green eyes that I inherited from my father, only his eyes looked increasingly tired from lack of sleep, as you can probably gather, with him and my mother being out constantly.  
While I looked every bit 17, I was very short, and a tiny 5 ft 2 - I was never allowed to slouch, as ordered by my Grandmother. She had raised me with manners, even if my parents didn't.  
I guessed my breasts were nicely sized, although in District 4, none of that mattered, which I was deeply grateful for, as if I kept scrutinising myself because of every flaw and every imperfection of my body and personality, I'd surely go insane. After all, the capitol judged us all on crazy standards enough already - you only had to look at district 4's escort, Elizabeta Button, to see it. She was less of a person, and more of a walking piece of art that no one would want to buy. It riled me up to no extent when she bigged up these games like pageants whilst teetering in those humongous heels she'd wear. We were children, not animals.

A moment passed. Then another. I hesitated, before making my way to my window. Something rose in me, and instead of closing the window as I previously intended to do, I peeped my head out to look out into the inky night, dotted with twinkling stars. "Please show our brother the truth about these games, Tristan." I whispered, smiling a small, tired smile. "Before he follows in your footsteps."

I fell into a fitful, dreamless, sleep that night, anxious for the day to come.

* * *

If Tristan had heard my prayers that night, he had sure answered them in the most twisted way possible.

The sun beat down on the fishing district, the sea was unusually calm, and you could hear the sounds of the song birds in the surrounding trees. Ordinarily this district was a heaven - the day would have seemed perfect , the whole town gathered for what could look like a celebration, if it wasn't for the solemn look on everyone's faces. Yes, even a supposed 'Career' district like ours was still no match for the wrath of the Capitol. The peace keepers were everywhere this afternoon, ready to make a move in an instant if anyone stepped a foot out of line. I frowned to myself, my brows knitting together. Peace Keepers truly were the lowest of the low around here, for they didn't keep peace at all - they were more like Fear Spreaders.

Seeing the whole district crammed into the small area outside of the Justice building like sardines had never failed to unnerve me, all the faces varying shades of worried, aside from the young Career hopefuls like my brother, who looked almost ... proud. Rhys had practically been bouncing on his way here. I asked him if he was afraid, to which he replied with a vigorous shake of the head.  
If he'd been anyone else's brother, he'd have disgusted me. 12 years old and wanting to go into a bloody contest like the Hunger games - it was enough to make me want to retch.

He must have seen the expression on my face. "Don't worry, Eva." He grinned in a way that would be infectious if it was any other day. "Your names only in there 5 times. There's no way you'll be picked." I smiled at him weakly. If only he knew that it wasn't me I was worried for.

Even as his finger was pricked and he was ushered to the group of 12 year olds at the back, I could see the small smile gracing his features. It hurt me to know someone I loved so much could love a game like this. How could he forget what we'd lost? _Who _we'd lost?

I rubbed my throbing finger in attempt to soothe it, and turned my attention over to my grandmother, who seemed to be scolding my parents for something or other - how ironic that it was probably for turning up to such a sober occasion drunk - before making my way to the roped area for the other 17 year old girls.

Inside the ropes felt even more daunting than last year. It was almost claustrophobic, everyone touching shoulder to shoulder, the smell of sweat, fear and sea salt dank in the air. No one spoke for the longest amount of time, and I kicked the earth underneath me uncomfortably, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.

It had been approximately 10 minutes in this condition before the young started getting restless. A low murmur escaped the crowd, though I stayed silent. I could hear all the whispers were along the same line of "Where's our District escort?" and "I hope she's not coming this year," with a girl in the row in front of me commenting darkly "I hope no one comes this year."

It was another 5 minutes before I was being jostled up to the front, no one wanting to be the closest to the stage and violated by our late district escorts loud clothing choices when she arrived. I wondered if our districts escort was considered to be beautiful in the capitol. Even if she was, beautiful definitely wasn't the word we'd use to describe her here.

Speaking of the devil, there she was now, teetering out of the Justice Building in vivid blue high heels, and attire to match. I guessed she was going for the colours of our district this year - it didn't make her appear any less hideous.

"Hello, hello, hello!" Elizabeta Button beamed, her voice as fake as her long, pastel lilac wig. "And welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

I tuned out when we were shown a short film, 'a gift straight from the capitol' as Elizabeta liked to put it. I felt truly uncomfortable watching the film - it was the same film every year, and the message was clear - 'this is what you get for questioning us'. I couldn't help but wonder if the Capitol Citizens actually thought it was noble of President Snow to send 24 children to the slaughter every year for a rebellion that barely took off about 3 quarters of a century ago.

When the film finally ended, I let out an audible sigh of relief with the rest of our district. However, I knew the worst part of the games had yet to come.

"I think we should get to naming the tributes, don't you folks?" A shrill giggle followed the moronic question. This woman was really beginning to get on my nerves, and I could tell from the slight falter in Elizabeta's expression that she could feel the ammunosity for her oozing from the audience. Still, she continued like nothing was wrong.

She shuffled to the big, gleaming glass bowl, before flashing a smile at the audience. "This always is one of my favourite bits."  
_I hate her with every fibre of my being._

Elizabeta sure made a meal of choosing a name, dipping her fingers into the glass ball daintily, before swirling them around. It was a full minute before she even thought about choosing a name. I wondered if she knew the full extent of her power - she held everyone's lives in that delicate glass ball.

And then, between finely manicured fingertips, she pulled out a name. Two words on a piece of paper. Nothng special by itself, but right now, those two words meant everything. She called them out in a booming voice, as if announcing a winner of a beauty pageant.

"And the lovely lady tribute is .." The crowd was silent. No one moved a muscle, breathing hitched. It seemed the surrounding ocean itself went silent for the announcement. My toe was tapping even more impatiently, wanting this to just be over and done with, so we wouldn't have to worry about it for another year. I truly hated this part. Watching as someones life was taken away in a moment , seeing the colour drain from their face as they realised their fate - it just made me feel sick. And never had I felt so sick at hearing a tributes name being spoken in the vile, sickly sweet capitol accent that belonged to Elizabeta Button. It honestly felt like some horrible joke.

"Evangeline Tidswell!" I knew her.  
She was the girl who's brother had died in a hunger games not too long ago, with a grandmother that brought her and her younger sibling up in the place of her part time parents. The girl was me. "Evangeline? Come on up, dear."

My face was up on that big screen in an instant, and although I was shocked, it didn't register on my face. In fact, no emotion expressed itself at all on the outside at all. Inside, however, I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry - I wanted to drag Elizabeta Button around that damn stage by her fake lilac hair.

All the girls in the group we'd been herded into - much like cattle, may I add - had turned their heads towards me, with looks of sympathy of their faces that didn't quite meet their eyes. Better me than them, they must have thought. My nails bit into the palm of my hand, making them feel raw. I tried to remain stoic as I made my way through the crowd, my head held high. Climbing up the stairs carefully as to avoid tripping, I stared down our escort, and watched as she shifted almost uncomfortably in her ridiculous aqua coloured stilettos , making her matching assemble making a slight noise as the sea green ruffles rubbed against each other. She regained her composure quickly, before chirping "Do we have any volunteers?" No one volunteered for me, of course. I had friends, but friendship only got you so far when it came to the Hunger games. "Well then, welcome to the games, Evangeline!"

Then she made her way to the male tributes ball, picking out another name, faster this time, it seemed. I swear I heard her say "Levis Macauley!", but she couldn't have. It'd have been to cruel to take away the two only apprentices away from the elderly Mr. Owens, a local fisherman. It would have been too cruel to take such a good friend with me.

I didn't pay attention to any more of this horrible ceremony, making an effort to look directly into the camera before searching out my family in the crowd. I didn't even tear my gaze off of my brothers grief-stricken face as Elizabeta Button ushered me and the district partner I hadn't even bothered to look at into the Justice Hall.  
I sighed shakily as the wooden doors closed behind me with a deafening boom, only one thought in my mind.

_I'm going to die._

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**Disclaimer: I do not own anything used in this story, such as the characters.**

**Okay, here is the first chapter, a prologue if you will (sorry for re-writing it like 117534434 times). How is it? Bad? Good? Okay? Please review. Reviews motivate me, even if they are bad. So please tell me what you think, and if there are any mistake, please inform me. Tell me what you think. That means please review. I love reviews, even if they are flames.**

**MeandPizzatheOTP**


	2. Chapter 2

**What A Lovely** **Nightmare**

_"The screams will haunt you in the night."  
_

* * *

_Corruption is like a ball of snow, once it's set a rolling it must increase.  
- Charles Caleb Colton_

* * *

I sighed in my seat, staring out of the train window in awe at the scenery whizzing past, almost too fast for my for my eyes to comprehend, all the while tracing the white locket that my brother had gave me as a token.

It had been my mothers before her and father had turned into the wreck she is today, back when Tristan was still with us. A twinge of sadness overcame me just thinking about my elder brother. He'd always been such a sweetheart when we were younger - The kind of boy that would never hurt a fly. Tristan had always been my idol, but apparently the boys at school never saw the boy I saw. Tristan was often picked on at school, despite the fact that he was a giant that could overpower all of his bullies with his pinky finger.

At the time, Tristan would purposely avoid all confrontation, even with all the training we'd recieved, simply because he was afraid of hurting people. There was a point where that all changed though. The day the bullies that picked on him decided to target me.

_It was a Tuesday. The sun was unusually hot, even for our district, blazing down on my back, making me feel almost uncomfortable in the late summer. School had just finished, and I was preparing to bolt for the docks to my part time job with Levis, when someone grabbed my shoulder."What's the rush, Eva?" A daunting voice breathed into my ear, making me shudder."Somewhere to be?" _

_The voice belonged to no other than the raven haired, icy eyed Ladon Evans, a boy in some of my brothers classes. I had to look up to see his face, and when I did, I allowed myself to drink in his features for a moment. Ladon was good looking in every sense of the word - and he knew it ; from his well defined nose to his strong jaw, he was almost the definition of perfect. However, what really made Ladon Evans so intriguing was his pale blue orbs. They were the colour of melting snow, and were cold enough to match. Those eyes had caught me like a deer in headlights, and like the predator he was, chose this time to strike. _

_"You remind me of your brother, you know." The boy paused in thought. "Hotter, maybe, but still weak."_

_I could feel the bile rising in my throat. So this was the boy that had been beating up Tristan. I knew I could inflict some serious damage here, but what would that do for my brother. I cast my gaze down, refusing to co-operate. Ladon continued._

_"I think I have a proposition for you." He smiled down at me, and I bit my lip anxiously. "Come to the beach with me."_

_I let out an awkward cough. "Uh - Um - I mean ... W-Why?"_

_I cursed myself for being so pathetic as he laughed. "If you come with me, I might consider laying off your brother a little bit."_

_I thought it over in my head quickly, but came to a conclusion quickly. Tristan would be devastated if he ever found out that i'd agreed to this. "I ... I can't - It's not -" I let out a shaky sigh. This boy was intimidating, and I didn't like the feeling one bit. I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. Why should I be intimidated by him? "No."_

_I could feel him grinning. "And why is that, huh? You're hot, but not hot enough to do better than me." I felt my resolve weakening, no matter how much I hated this. He closed the distance between us. "Why don't you just come with me and -"_

_"And what, Ladon?" A deep, rumbling voice sounded. I whipped my head around to see Tristan. "What are you doing with my baby sister?"_

_Tristan sounded different, more dangerous than he ever had. Ladon didn't even flinch._

_"Piss off, Tristan." The boy in front of me waved off my brother as if he was nothing, eyes on me the whole time.  
__Until they were forcibly ripped off of me.__  
_

_Before I knew what was happening, Ladon Evans was falling, his face smashing to the floor. My brother was on top of him, bringing his head back up by his hair, before his fist connected to Ladon's nose with a sickening crunch._

From then on, Ladon and his friends never picked on my brother - infact, no one picked on Tristan Tidswell anymore. He was the one doing the bullying from then on.

I guessed something in him snapped seeing me in that position, and I blamed myself for a while. After all, it was me he was protecting that day, and now he was ...  
_Dead._

My brother had died for these games.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the boy in front of me - Levis Macauley. Me and Levis had been friends before this. Good friends. In fact, the curly haired brunette with orbs the colour of chocolate was one of the only people I could trust outside of these games. He was an angry mess most of the time around the rest of them, but we could be ourselves around eachother, something that wasn't easy these days.  
Levis and I had worked together since the age of 14 - first gutting fish, and recently, dock work. It didn't pay much, but we were strong enough to handle the heavy work loads, and our employer, Mr Owens, was a sweetheart, that quite frankly needed all the help he could get to keep his business going. For a fleeting moment, I felt guilty for leaving Mr Owens like this.

"Eva," Levis breathed. I smiled up at him lightly. "You've always had the worst luck."

The comment was enough to earn a laugh out of me. "Hey, you're one to talk, we're both here you know."

The silence becomes uncomfortable between us. The brunette comes towards me, and envelopes me into a hug. Before I know it I'm crying into his pale blue shirt, staining it with my tears. Levis is soothing me, whispering into my ear, "Shhhhh, Eva, it'll be okay ... You're always okay ..." It sounded like he was saying it more to reassure himself than me, but I took it the comfort gladly. Soon my wails had been reduced to pathetic hiccups, although I still probably looked a state.

So, I suppose it wasn't the best time for the golden boy of Panem, our mentor Finnick O'dair, to stroll into our carriage. "Hello, my name is - Oh!" I looked up at the bronzed haired God and my breathing hitched. My hands went up to my eyes, wiping them in attempt to regain some sort of composure. The boy with his arms wrapped around me stiffened protectively, as if trying to shield me from this man's charming smile.

Everyone in our district knew who Finnick O'dair was - after all, he was the most famous District 4 victor out of them all - hell, maybe even the most famous victor ever, period. He never even had to come up with an angle for sponsors in his year, no one could match his natural beauty. And here he was, looking at me as if I was a mess. I probably was. I shrunk back into Levis' embrace.

"So," Finnick started again, the charm etched back into his features. "You two are the tributes from district 4."

Levis scoffed. "No. We're on this train for the refreshments." I smiled a small smile as he gestured to the food table.

Finnick laughed, surprisingly. "Come now, is that any way to talk to the man who'll keep you guys alive?"

The aura of the man clashed fiercely with the dark haired boy next to me - one bright, one dark, but both haunting. I remained silent.

Levis was the one to reply, challenging him with a glare. "And who says you'll do that?"

"I do." The man with the sea green eyes beamed, then he changed the subject before an argument could start. "Now, we start with establishing skills, so we can figure off how to play you off. Hey," Finnick's tone became gentler as his gaze fixated on me. "Evangeline, isn't it?"

I managed to nod dumbly, offering him a shaky smile. This felt all to surreal for me.

"What can you do, Evangeline?" He smiled, obviously trying to make me feel more at ease.

Levis answered for me again, emphasising my nickname in a way that said 'I can call her Eva all I want, but don't you dare try it'. "_Eva_ is strong for her size, and we both have been working with heavy loads for about a year. For the two years before that, we worked with knives gutting fish. Me and _Eva_ are also good with spears and tridents. Sometimes we go rock climbing, and she's pretty good at that, too. Better than me."

Finnick shifted uncomfortably. "Right," He started slowly. "Is there anything_ Evangeline_ wants to add?"

I lowered my gaze from him as I spoke. "I've taken gymnastics all my life, so I'm flexible. I can't really handle weapons apart from knives and spears - and it's not like I could do anything with them if I was attacked by a Career. That's all .."

The red-head smiled at me warmly. "Angel, that's enough to get you through this. I'll make sure of it."

By the way Levis tightens his hold on my arm, I think we both know it's not enough.

* * *

That night we watched the reaping in the next carriage along. Elizabeta Button had decided to grace us with her presence, and we all in turn decided to keep as much distance between us and her as possible, isolating her to the red leather chair that she complained didn't go with her outfit, as Finnick, Levis and I stuck to the matching sofa.

First up is District 1. They didn't look as dangerous as tributes from District 1 usually did, but what they lacked in that aspect, they more than made up for in arrogance. The girl I nicknamed as Sparkles practically skipped up to the stage, shaking hands with the cocky green-eyed boy I remember as Marvel. They were both beautiful - but what can you expect from the one of two of the Capitols pet districts.

Next is District 2, and if I thought I had no chance of winning before, I'd might as well kill myself now. I shivered in my flimsy Capitol dress so much I was sure that my District partner felt it, because he snaked an arm around my shoulder.

The girls name was Clove, and she was about as small as me, but with a darker tone to her. I could tell she was born an bred for this kind of thing as she strode up to the stage full of confidence, as if the game was already hers. I wasn't just afraid. I was petrified.

And if that wasn't enough, a blonde monster of a boy was beside himself to volunteer after her. He was grinning, but it didn't warm up his eyes of ice one bit. In fact, I could feel all the heat being sucked out of me in that instant. I honestly had no hope. I may be part of the Career pack in District 4, but I was no Career. He was a Career - a killing machine.

My own reaping came, and I was almost pleasantly surprised. I didn't vomit - and then pass out stone cold - like the girl from District 3, which in itself was an achievement. I looked as if none of this bothered me, as if it was irritating more than anything else, when in reality I think I felt worse than the District 3 girl felt. I didn't even show emotion as I stared down Elizabeta, and then the camera, which Finnick congratulated me for.

Levis' reaping was just as impressive. I never even heard Levis get reaped, so all this was new to me. He flashed a small grin to the camera after he realised what was happening, before striding up with purpose to shake my hand. We could almost pass for Careers.

"Oh my, I'll be one of the most talked about escorts in Panem at this rate!" Elizabeta squealed, before gushing at the two of us. "You guys did such a good job. Really, it was fabulous."

"I think this calls for alcohol." Levis sighed next to me, looking up at Finnick. Levis was of the legal age to drink, and often made the most of it. This years reaping was going to be his last. My stomach tightened at the thought.

Finnick smiled his trademark lopsided grin. "The bar is a few carriages down. Do you want me to take you?"

Levis gave a curt nod and stood up, and I hurriedly went with him, not wanting to be in this awful place without him, leaving the brattish district escort by herself.

* * *

Finnick led through 4 or 5 carriages before we reached the bar. I stiffened as I recognised a few of the faces sat around, chatting casually, my nails digging into my District partners arm. Levis sighed, probably in pain from my firm grip on him, before grunting out "Oh, so there are other tributes on this train. That's great." I tried to remain stony-faced as the other tributes looked up from what they were doing. Sparkles was eyeing up my District partner, making me scowl slightly. Levis continued regardless."Have any more things we might need to know before deciding to get drunk on the train ride to our death, O'Dair?"

The previous Victor sighed. "What did you expect, Levis? There is one train, so we can keep all the tributes together. Why is that surprising?"

Levis grumbled, his chocolatey eyes becoming richer with irritation. I rubbed my hand over the place my nails had bitten into a few moments before in what I hoped to be a soothing manner as he stared at the other tributes, who stared right back.

"Right at the bar was the Victor most famous for screwing up his life, District 12's Haymitch Abernathy. Judging by the lack of scrawny tributes around him, I assumed that he never told his lot that the rest of us were on this train. Finnick strode up to him, conveniently leaving us behind, in the presence of the rest of the tributes. I wondered which one would kill me.I looked closer at them all, analysing them.

The tributes seemed to stick with their District partners, aside from the boy from 3, who was seemingly sucking up to the Careers. I had a fleeting moment of concern for the boy. Didn't he know that he was signing a death wish? I shook my head lightly. I couldn't think like that in the arena. I decided to asses them all individually.

The pair from district 11 looked like contenders this year - the girl didn't seem very strong, but that boy could match District 2 and Levis in size, and wore Levis expression too. Not to mention that he seemed very protective of his District partner.  
I gave the smaller tribute a smile when her eyes met mine, which she shyly returned. She was about my brothers age, though I could tell they were nothing alike. Obviously she was in here for her District partner, and not to get wasted like Levis obviously wanted to.

I let my eyes wander to a red headed girl, who's district I'd already forgotten. She was exchanging a few heated words with her partner, but before I could read more into what was happening, she fled the carriage as quick as a fox.

My focus changed to Sparkles, still looking at the boy beside me. She turned her attention away from him quickly as he glared at her. Despite my slight joy at the fact he wasn't interested in her, I elbowed him in the ribs. "Play nice," I hissed at him, earning the same glare from him he offered Sparkles. "Sparkles is a Career. Don't piss her off."

He gave me a small grin. "Sparkles?"

I smiled warmly up at him. "It was something like that, wasn't it?"

The grin on his own face widened. "I like it."

Then there was Clove. There would be no way I'd forget her name any time soon. She wasn't glaring at me, but in a way, the way she was smiling at me was even worse. It said 'Ha, you're going to die, and I'll probably be the one to kill you.' I knew Levis could see it too, because his hand went onto mine quickly as he glared at her, past her and - _He's not glaring at Clove._

My eyes shot up to where his gaze was focused. They were the Career boys he was staring down, although they weren't paying much attention to him. They're eyes were on me, openly leering. I shifted uncomfortably. The boy I recognised as Marvel elbowed his blonde tank of a friend from 2, said something to him, and they both laughed. Levis stepped in front of me slightly.

This was too much for me. I decided to drag Levis up to Finnick and his drunk friend at the bar. As I pulled Levis away, I barely turned around for a second.  
That was enough time for the hulking boy from 2 to mouth something to me that made my heart jolt painfully.

"_You're mine."_

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything used in this story, such as the characters.**

**Okay, here is the second chapter. I love reviews, even if they are flames, and they are like payment to me, so please tell me what you think?:3**

**MeandPizzatheOTP**


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